"What do you want ?" "You know what I want." He took another turn.

There was nothing for it but to give way on his side, or run the risk of something happening which might cause an awkward scandal, and come to his father's ears.
"Look here, Anne," he began, abruptly.

"I have got something to propose." She looked up at him.
"What do you say to a private marriage ?" Without asking a single question, without making objections, she answered him, speaking as bluntly as he had spoken himself: "I consent to a private marriage." He began to temporize directly.
"I own I don't see how it's to be managed--" She stopped him there.
"I do!" "What!" he cried out, suspiciously.

"You have thought of it yourself, have you ?" "Yes." "And planned for it ?" "And planned for it!" "Why didn't you tell me so before ?" She answered haughtily; insisting on the respect which is due to women--the respect which was doubly due from _him,_ in her position.
"Because _you_ owed it to _me,_ Sir, to speak first." "Very well.

I've spoken first.